


North Star

by kokuhaku



Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: F/M, Suicide Attempt, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-11
Updated: 2018-11-11
Packaged: 2019-08-21 23:35:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,242
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16586450
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kokuhaku/pseuds/kokuhaku
Summary: Dex has a North Star





	North Star

She was his North Star. It came as a _finally_ moment for him, finally he had someone he could talk to, finally there was a person who didn’t leave at the first hint of trouble, finally he found who Mercer promised him. While she had the same attentive qualities as his late therapist, they were nothing alike in personality, traits he didn’t discover until deeper into their relationship, past the point of no return.

She listened, for she too was damaged. Lost parents, lost childhood, lost and wandering for a purpose. She found structure, but not in the way he did, his precise and meticulously balanced life, any little disturbance threatening to throw him off track. She embraced the disturbance, knew it was an unavoidable part of life, sometimes reckless with her acceptance. He thinks that’s why they mesh together so well, he can be reckless and she still welcomes him with open arms.

He doesn’t deserve her. He’s told her again and again but she just shakes her head, “I don’t mind. I’ll never mind, Ben.”

Ben. She’s the only one who calls him by his first name, says she doesn’t dislike Dex but she likes Ben better.

“Is that alright?”

“It’s more than alright.”

He’s never felt this way about someone before. He didn’t think he could. He wouldn’t call it love, no, he didn’t even love his parents when they were alive. But it’s something more than he’s ever felt, something he’s still trying to figure out. If this was normal, it would be categorized as dating. The relationship had all of the elements of it—the coffee dates, long text messages, ordering take out on Friday night, sex. He really liked the sex, often they would end up in bed, him taking his frustration out on her body before telling her in post-orgasm high what set him off in the first place. Soon it became sex based on attraction instead of just an outlet for anger. He liked being with her, liked being inside her. Liked her little moans and how small she seemed when she wriggled underneath him.

But it’s still difficult for him to be affectionate. She understands, even when he gets a little out of control. His hands around her throat, and the marks that he leaves. She gives him some in return, nails digging into the skin of his back, fingers tangled tightly in his hair. In a way, they’re always taking something out on each other. A mutual understanding. A mutual pain. Anyone else would’ve backed away, ran out the door, but not her. His North Star.

The night he was going to kill himself, she stopped him. The gun pressed under his chin, his finger seconds away from pulling the trigger when he felt the familiar vibration of his cell phone ringing in his pocket.

“I just wanted to check in on you,” he still remembers her exact words. “I know you said you’d contact me whenever you needed to talk but it’s been a few days and I was kind of worried.” She laughed then, an embarrassed laugh that really said _You’re probably perfectly fine, I’m just pestering you at this point and now I feel silly_. But she wasn’t being silly, not at all. She saved his life and she still doesn’t know. 

As much as he wants to tell her, he can’t. It’s one secret he has to keep to himself. One of many. If only she knew. Underneath the damaged man who hides behind the façade of order is something else, something darker, deadly. A monster. Despite Mercer’s insistence that it could be contained, despite wanting to believe his therapist’s lingering words, the urge to kill hasn’t disappeared. It’s like a hunger, never-ending, he can fend it off temporarily when he’s with her, but it always finds a way back, lurking, tempting him. 

When he wraps his hands around her throat, a moan escapes her lips. She likes it. She wants it. But in the back of his head, he can’t stop thinking what would happen if he didn’t stop, if he tightened his grip just hard enough to silence her. Kill her. He can’t do that, not to her. Someone else. Anyone else. Not her. So he lets go, heavy gasping replacing her strained moans, and all he wants to do is fuck her as hard as he can. It’s all he can do to resist the urge to kill.

It doesn’t matter how rough he is, she still curls up next to him after. Her fingers still trace circles around the hairs on his chest. She still falls asleep in his closeness, her arms around him. She wouldn’t be able to do that if she was dead. The warmth that he feels next to her would be replaced with frigid cold, and he doesn’t want that. He can’t kill his North Star. But he can kill for her.

Jealousy. Another secret he hides from her. Her job requires her to be friendly, polite even to the rudest people. She does it well, can put up with a lot of bullshit. Sometimes she tells him this. Most of the time he’s watching her from a distance. His jaw always clenches whenever he sees someone getting a little too friendly with her, edging on flirting. The regular who knows her by name, tries to pass the gentle shoulder touching off as something innocent. He doesn’t like that. He can’t risk losing her to some prick in an expensive suit.

He had a heightened sense of victory when he killed him, no more potential threats, no more distractions. He’ll deal with the aftermath later, of course she’ll wonder where the man went, but her curiosity will gradually turn into acceptance when she realizes he isn’t coming back. Good. She’s all his again. The image of a bullet planted in the middle of the man’s forehead is enough to drown out the hunger, just enough to last when he shows up at her apartment later that night, holding her close, taking the familiar steps to her bedroom. He’s fine for now, and with his North Star, he can go on for a bit longer.

Only a little, though.

He’s already thinking about when to consider his next target, a hunter preparing to search for prey. He could get away with lethal force at work, or maybe he’ll branch out again. Maybe he’ll find someone random. Her soft sighing snaps him out of his trance. But as he kisses her on the forehead, he wonders what it would be like if the bullet went in her head instead. If he shot her, too. No, not her. _C’mon, Dex_ , he tells himself. _Not again. Not her._ Not his North Star. He kisses her forehead again, harder this time, as if to push out the thought and replace it with actions of empathy that Mercer told him about all those years ago. Actions he doesn’t believe in, only acts on to appear normal. If he can’t maintain order, what’s the point? He could snap right there, if he really wanted to. He could finally break free and fully embrace the monster within him.

“You okay?” She mumbles, unaware of the danger she’s accepted so intimately, the murderer with his lips pressed closely to her skin. He closes his eyes, looking for a thought, any thought.

_I’m fine, I’m fine, I’m fine_. “I’m fine.”   

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you guys enjoyed this. Dex is my favorite character from season three, I'm surprised there isn't a lot written about him so I decided to write something myself. I'm still toying around with ideas about this relationship, maybe I'll do a series of one-shots but we'll see. Hopefully more Dex fans show up down the line :)


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